


20 Minutes Into Terror

by ElegantButler



Category: Max Headroom (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantButler/pseuds/ElegantButler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryce attends the Academy's reunion Think Tank. But things go downhill when the Academy is seized by terrorists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hostage Crisis at Think Tank

Max Headroom:  
20 Minutes Into Terror  
-Chapter 1: Hostage Crisis at Think Tank-

“Maybe you should attend that College Reunion Think T-T-T-Tank,” Max suggested as Bryce went over a new program on his computer. “If nothing else, you’ll p-p-p-probably spike the intellectual percentiles-tiles.”

“Did that when I was eleven,” Bryce said with a shrug, returning his attention to the screen which was now showing a rainbow of colors that nobody had ever seen before.

“Might want to ch-ch-check them again-gain,” Max pointed out. “You never know if someone else might have messed it up up up. Nice colors. You got names for them?”

“No,” Bryce admitted. “To most people they don’t even exist. Only a select few can actually see them. Others will see colors that are similar but not the same.”

“So, are you going to go?”

“Huh?” Bryce blinked. Then he remembered. “Oh, the Think Tank. Yeah, I guess I’ll go. It’s either that or try not to get a headache listening to one of the board’s hare-brained schemes again.”

“As oppose to yours?” Edison inquired from the doorway.

“I’ll have you know that my schemes come from the finest hares,” Bryce boasted with a smirk in his eyes.

“You need a ride to that college reunion of yours?” Edison asked. 

“I think you’ll be reporting when it’s going on,” Bryce said. 

“I don’t feel good about you being on the street alone,” Edison told him. “I’ll have Rik give you a ride.”

“The guy who took us to Big Time during the Security Systems incident?” Bryce shivered involuntarily, remembering the time he and Edison had spent in the thermal testing chamber.

“Yeah. He’s okay. I trust him with you.”

“Thanks, Edison,” Bryce said, getting back to what he had been doing.

***

At ten past four, Bryce arrived at the Academy of Computer Sciences. He hurried up the school steps and hurried into the building.

Rik waited nearby in his rickshaw. Edison had paid him top dollar to remain in the area and wait for Bryce.

“He’s not very street-smart, Rik,” Edison had said. “Keep an eye out for me, okay?”

Rik had agreed. For friendship. Of course the hundred dollars in street cash had sweetened the deal a bit.

He was checking his tires when he heard a lot of running feet. Looking up, he saw a group of about eight men running into ACS. 

The men were dressed in what looked like army fatigues. But Rik knew they weren’t soldiers. No soldier wore his fatigues the way these men were wearing them. The sleeves had been torn from the shirts and jackets. Black and green bands were criss-crossed over their exposed arms. They carried bayonets and Brownings as the raced past the rickshaw driver.

Rik ran to the nearest rack of TVs, staying low and trying not to be seen.

“Max!” he said. “Max Headroom! Max Headroom!”

“That’s my- that’s my- that’s my name,” Max said, finally appearing. “What’s up?”

“We got a bad situation at ACS,” Rik said. “Several armed men just ran inside. I don’t…”

Gunfire could suddenly be heard despite the bricks and mortar. Windows blew out as an explosion rocked the building. There was a larger explosion and the front entrance hall was completely destroyed.

“Bryce!” Max screamed. “Rik you’ve got to find him!”

“There’s no way I can get in,” Rik apologized. “You’d better tell Edison what’s happened.”

***

Inside the remains of the building, two soldiers flanked the outside of the door to the auditorium where the Think Tank was being held. Inside the door, two more soldiers stood guard. All four were heavily armed. Nobody was getting in or out.

 

The leader of the terrorists, a man in his mid thirties with fierce eyes, a balding head and a five o’clock shadow, barked orders to his men as the reunion attendees were forced to lie face down on the floor near the desks. Ropes were tied around their necks, uncomfortably tightly, but not quite enough to make them pass out. Then the ropes were tied to the bottoms of the legs of the desks. The teens’ arms were tied behind their backs and blindfolds were place over their eyes.

 

The leader of the terrorists began to shout. But the words were in a foreign language that most of the teen geniuses present didn’t recognize.

Bryce understood the language, but didn’t know it well enough to reply. He wondered if anyone else had. 

“Na qibal samajna Urdu,” Jenny said. “English.”

Two of the men began to argue violently for several minutes. 

Finally one of them turned to the anxiety-ridden teens.

“Okay, you want it in English. You get it in English. We are going to kill two of you every hour, one boy and one girl, until our demands are met. We will give your networks one hour to receive, read, and reply. Then we start.”

“I think I liked it better in Urdu,” Bryce remarked as he, Jenny, and the others waited, wondering which of them would be shot first.


	2. Demands Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The terrorists make their demands.

Chapter Two: Demands Made

Edison walked into the control room and set his camera down on Theora’s desk.

“Anything new on the Bureau Burner?”

“Other than that he’s back in action, no.” Theora said. “He hit three credit bureaus today. I’m trying to determine if there’s a pattern. Maybe we can predict his next…”

“There’s t-t-t-trouble at ACS!” Max called out as he he appeared on Theora’s control screen.

“What kind of trouble?” Edison asked. “Can you show me?”

Max gave a quick nod. He went to the screen in the room where the terrorists were holding Bryce and his former classmates.

Edison got a brief view of the teens lying face down on the floor and tied to the table legs by their necks before a gunman noticed Max and fired a spray of bullets at the TV.

***

The young geniuses flinched in fear as the gunfire sounded. Each wondered if the first two killings had taken place. The sound had drowned out the sound of shattering glass and metal. None of them knew that it had only been the TV set that had been blown away.

Nobody spoke. They knew that talking would only lead to their own deaths. Instead they suffered in a terrified silence waiting for the next hour to pass, wondering which of them would be killed.

***

“Max!” Edison shouted.

“Right here,” Max said, appearing on Theora’s control screen an instant later. “That was a close close close one!”

“It looked bad,” Theora observed.

“We’ve got to get those kids out of there,” Edison said as he started to head for the door.

“Edison!” Murray stopped him. “Stay here. We can’t just rush into ACS. We might trigger a bloodbath.”

“Murray’s right,” Theora said. “We’ve got to find out what they want first.”

Edison returned to Theora’s control desk to await news from the board of the terrorists’ demands.

***

The TV screens in the boardrooms at all the major networks were suddenly filled with the face of the terrorist leader.

“On the bottom of this screen you will see a ticker-tape with our demands. It will appear only twice so read it carefully. You have one hour to fulfill these demands. Failure to comply will result in the death of a male and female hostage every hour until we are satisfied. And just in case you think we’re bluffing, or that these are children’s toys we’re carrying…”

He aimed the gun at Jenny and squeezed the trigger, firing a single shot into her abdomen,

***

Jenny cried out in agony as the bullet ripped through her. She began to cry from the pain, but the nearest terrorist struck her with the butt of his rifle.

“Shut up,” he snarled at her. 

Jenny’s former classmates winced at the sound of her pained cries. Things were getting worse by the minute and now one of them was hurt. Though none of them knew how badly. 

“Jenny?” Bryce asked, his voice full of worry. 

“You can shut up, too,” the same man said, striking Bryce in the side of the head causing him to see stars. 

Bryce wisely decided to be quiet. 

 

***

Grossberg was mortified. His head of Research and Development had been shot. He didn’t think the bullet had hit any major organs. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t bleed to death.

“What do you want of us?” he demanded.

“The instructions were on the bottom.”

“But I don’t even speak whatever language that was,” Grossberg pointed out.

The message had been in Urdu.

“Then I suggest you find somebody who does,” the terrorist leader said, as he disconnected the call.


	3. If a Question Cannot Be Answered...

Chapter 3: If A Question Cannot Be Answered

 

Bryce and his classmates lie unable to observe their captors. They listened to the men speaking in Urdu, gruff voices snarling and snapping words they could not understand.

A sudden spray of bullets rang out, followed by a deathly silence.

Jenny whimpered loudly, fearing that the killing had begun.

Bryce kicked the ground once, hoping she would be relieved that at least one of her classmates was still alive. 

Another gunshot went off and Bryce let out a scream as the bullet pierced the back of his knee. Bryce didn’t hear Jenny react. He wondered if she was either unconscious or dead.

Jenny had heard everything. But not clearly. Slipping into shock, she heard everything as if she were underwater. She wanted to answer, but her brain felt sluggish and refused to make her mouth cooperate.

***

Cheviot slammed his fist down on the board room table. He called the security office and a maternally plump woman’s face appeared on screen.

“Mr. Cheviot,” she began.

“Dispense with the pleasantries,” Cheviot said. “Bryce Lynch and his classmates are trapped in a hostage situation at ACS. We just got a ticker-tape demand from the terrorists. We cannot read it. Can your team extract the message from call logs?”

“I don’t know. We may have to write it out by hand.”

“It’s not in English,” Cheviot warned.

“Mr. Bowman able to do it,” the security head suggested. “He’s got a degree in art.”

“Tell him it’s very important that he get it exactly right,” Cheviot told her. “We need to get it translated quickly.”  
***  
“I hate waiting like this,” Edison told Murray. “I want to be out there, doing something. Bryce is in serious danger! We don’t even know if he’s still alive!”

“They’re not going to kill anyone without broadcasting it,” Murray told him. “We have to wait until we get a copy of the demand message to translate.”

“But why write it in a foreign alphabet in the first place?” Theora asked.

“Maybe they want us to fail?” Murray suggested.

Theora’s and Edison exchanged horrified looks.

If that was true. If the terrorists were making unfulfillable demands… 

“We have to find a way to free those kids,” Edison said as he got to his feet and made for the door. “Maybe we could…”

“No,” Murray said, firmly. “All they’d need to do is leave one gunman in the room and Bryce and his classmates would be dead in seconds.”

“They’re going to be dead anyhow in a few hours if we don’t figure out something soon.” Edison exclaimed.

“He’s right, Murray,” Theora said. “We can’t just do nothing.”

“We’ll go to Big Time,” Edison said. “We can get Reg and Dom to help. Rik’s probably already told them what happened.

Murray nodded with a reluctant expression on his face. “I’ll stay here in case Cheviot gets any updates. You and Theora head to Big Time.”


	4. Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made to rescue the hostages at ACS

Chapter Four: Strategy

Bryce clenched his teeth against a cry that would certainly get him shot a second time. The pain radiated from his knee to his toes. A whimper escaped him. The barrel of a gun pressed against his skull and for what seemed the longest of moments he waited for a bullet to enter his brain. He felt no fear, only a numb acceptance of his coming death.

The barrel of the gun moved away. But a moment later a shot rang out. Bryce whimpered at the sound of what he was sure was the first kill. His heart sank at the thought of his former classmates dying decades before their time. It was no longer a threat. Now it was a reality.

Still hearing nothing from Jenny, Bryce wondered if she had also been frightened into silence, or if she was also dead.

He wondered how long he would hold out before shock and death claimed him.

Was he already in shock?

***

Reg opened the door before Edison had even knocked.

“Rik told us what happened at ACS,” he said. “Sorry about your Bryce.”

“We don’t know he’s dead yet,” Edison said. “I was hoping you’d be able to help us get him and the other kids out of there.”

“They might get mad at you if you call ‘em kids to their faces,” Reg pointed out. “And yeah, I think I can help. We’re gonna have to figure out a way to knock ‘em all out.”

“Know anywhere we can score a few cannisters of sleep gas?” Edison asked.

“Not me personally,” Reg said. “But a mate of mine was in the military for a bit before she became a Blank. She might be able to find something we can use.”

Reg tapped a few keys on the Blank Vu Phone.

A blonde woman appeared on the screen. She had the lean muscular look of a special forces fighter who hasn’t let retirement ruin her.

“Shelby,” he said. “Reg. We got a situation. Edison Carter’s here. He’s got a friend who’s in serious trouble and needs your help.”

“What sort of trouble?” Blank Shelby asked.

Reg moved aside and let Edison speak.

“ACS, you’ve heard of it?”

“The Academy of Computer Sciences,” Shelby said. “Yeah, my kid sister went there, Class of 2000.”

“Bryce’s class,” Edison said. “Your kid sister might be involved, too, then.”

A look of worry came over the ex-soldier’s face. “Involved in what?”

“Terrorists have taken over ACS. We think it’s only the Class of 2000 in danger right now.”

“And the metrocops haven’t done anything,” Shelby snarled.

“Too risky,” Edison said.

“Have they made any demands?” Shelby asked.

“Yes. But they were written in a foreign language.” Edison said. “Max.”

Max Headroom appeared on another screen. “What is it? Have you got B-B-B-Bryce? Is he okay?”

“Not yet,” Edison said. “Max can you show Shelby here the demands made by the terrorists?”

Max made a huffing sound and brought up the ticker-tape.

Shelby read it for several moments, then shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she told him. “It’s just the name of extinct roses.”

“Could they refer to women’s names?” Theora asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The names are too generic. Double Delight. Cottage. Glamis Castle.”

“So the demand is just a red herring,” Murray realized. “They don’t intend to free those kids.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Shelby shook her head. “Max, can you see inside the building and find out where the terrorists are located?”

“The TV in the room where Bryce is has been des-des-des-destroyed,” Max said. “But I might be able to access the securicam.”

“Good,” Shelby said. “Give us full access, both sight and sound. I want to hear what those bastards are saying. Never thought those two years in Hindustan would be useful.”

“That’s where you were stationed?” Edison asked.

“Yeah. In the Big Three,” Shelby explained. “And believe me, when you know it means the difference between life and death, you learn a language real quickly.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Edison asked. “Reg said you might have access to some sleep gas?”

“The Museum of Military History had Russian exhibit,” Shelby said “They have several weapons on display, including a few cannisters of Kolokol-1. Assuming the cannisters are actually full, we can use them to knock out everyone and rescue the hostages.”

“And if they’re not?” Murray asked.

“It’s the only chance we’ve got, I’m afraid.” Shelby told him. “Because they’re going to kill all of those kids one way or the other if we don’t.”


	5. Raid and Kill

Chapter 5: Raid and Kill

Dominique parked the pink microbus in the rear lot of the abandoned museum.

“You still got that infrared camera, Reg?” Edison asked, referring to the one he’d used in the attempt to bring Paddy Ashton’s killers to justice.

Reg dug the camera out of a pile of equipment he kept in the back of the microbus and waved it at Edison. “Right here.” he said. “We’ll also need this,” he added, producing a crowbar. “Little gift from an old friend I ran into a few days ago.”

“Breughal or Mahler?” Edison asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Both,” Reg laughed. “Though Breughal was the one who kindly donated this baby. Wasn’t too keen on parting with it, mind you.”

Reg and Edison stepped out of the Big Time microbus with the camera and crowbar. 

From the back the museum looked like an old warehouse. There were three loading doors, all locked. Five trucks were parked in back in various places. Two were missing all six of their tires. One looked like it had been converted into living space for a short time, but was currently empty. 

Edison wondered if the occupant had moved on permanently or if they would return.

Shelby pulled up on her motor-trike.

“What do we have for infiltration equipment?” she asked as she and the others converged.

Reg showed her the camera and crowbar.

“It’ll do,” she decided. “We’ll have plenty of artillery once we’re in. Okay, Reg you’re the strongest of the three of us. Can you break the padlock off one of those doors with that crowbar? Don’t open the door yet. It might be alarmed.”

“Sure thing, love,” Reg grinned. He took the crowbar over to the middle door. After three tries, the old and rusted lock finally broke away. 

“Okay, now,” Shelby said. “Raise the door just a foot. We should be able to roll under it. Edison and I will go in. Reg, you’ll have to stay here and stand guard.”

Reg gave her the thumbs up and slowly raised the door until it was up about a foot.

It was a tight squeeze, but Edison and Shelby managed to get through.

They stood up in the dim light. 

“We need to find the right exhibit hall,” Edison said.

“There’ll be visitors’ maps in the lobby,” Shelby told him as she headed down toward the store room door.

They passed weapons of every kind as they walked through the store room. Edison picked up one and looked at it appreciatively.

“It’s just a gatling,” Shelby shrugged. “Leave it.”

“If people knew this stuff was here,” Edison breathed as he followed her, not wanting to think of the outcome.

They reached the lobby. The racks held various pamphlets, but it was too dark to make them out.

It was too risky to switch on a light, so Edison switched on the infrared camera and turned it to it’s night time reading mode.

After scanning several pamphlets that offered lectures on the Peloponnesian War, Crimean War, and the evolution of weapons, Edison finally found the Russian exhibit pamphlet.

Turning opening it, he found what he was looking for.

“It’s in the south wing of the museum,” he said.

With a curt nod, Shelby headed in that direction, Edison quickly following her.

The cannisters were behind a set of velvet ropes. They were positioned in a tableau of a battle scene. Figures of Russian troops were posed in eternal preparation for some long forgotten raid.

Two of them were holding cannisters.

Shelby unhooked one of the ropes and set it down. 

Lights came on and alarms began to flare.

“Shit!” Shelby swore. “They alarmed the rope. I wasn’t expecting that. We’ve got to hurry!”

She removed the cannisters from the plastic soldiers’ hands, giving one to Edison while she kept the other. She also grabbed a third cannister, this one looking much different, and began to run. 

Edison followed her. 

In the storage room, they were met by a phalanx of eight metrocops.

Without warning, Shelby threw down the third cannister she’d picked up. The room began to fill up with smoke. With her now free hand, she grabbed Edison and led him toward the door.

Once they were outside, they saw Reg cradling his hand and standing by one metrocop who was lying on the floor, alive but unconscious.

“He’ll be alright,” Reg told them as they raced back to the microbus.

“I’ll follow you on the motor-trike,” Shelby told them. “I’m not leaving Screamer.”

***

A terrifying silence had filled the room that Bryce was in. Even the terrorists had gone silent. From time to time he felt a gun against some part of his body, head, spine, limb. Then the cylinder was pulled away and he heard the footsteps as the gunman went to torment one of the other hostages.

There was a burst of gunfire and pain exploded in Bryce’s right shoulder. The bullets stopped hitting him, but the sound of gunfire continued until he heard another boy scream and fall abruptly silent.

Another kill.

Bryce thought he’d recognized the boy’s voice. Was it Demetrius Jackson, he wondered. The boy had been in the top five in their class. They had worked on several projects together. 

Another burst of gunfire told him that they had also killed a girl just as they’d promised.

He prayed it wasn’t Jenny.


End file.
